


A Nest of Stars

by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Raised Apart, Sibling Incest, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:48:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera_DragonMuse/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An answer to a tumblr prompt from Kiwiitin "When Kili is all grown up he learns that he had a older brother who disappeared around the same time a dragon appeared into the realm. So Kili decides to find out what happened to him."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Nest of Stars

"It's done it again!" Someone outside the forge was laughing.

"Oh, the Master will be mad," a woman clucked her tongue. "That delivery was meant to go straight to Himself, wasn't it?"

"What's going on?" Kili stuck his head outside, ignoring Thorin's grumbles. "Has the dragon come by?'

"Aye, lad," the woman laughed, "and taken the Master's beer, don't you know? Nipped up clean as you pleased and left the coin behind."

"He's not a proper dragon at all," her friend shook her head. "They're meant to rape and pillage, aren't they?"

"That's those ugly brutes from the North," said the first woman. "This one has good manners. If bad taste in liquor."

Kili left them to their gossip, returned to the blade still hot on the anvil. 

"You look like your head's full up of something," Thorin set down his hammer.

"It's the fifth of the third moon," Kili shrugged. "He would be eighty-five by now."

"I know it," Thorin sighed. 

It had been three years since Kili had stumbled across the box in the attic, pulled out stiff clothing of a child and a stuffed lion. He'd poured over it, brought it down to his mother and she'd stifled a sob at the sight of it. Three years since she'd explained haltingly how he had been just a babe and she had only taken her eyes of her older son for a minute. Just a minute to close her eyes and then Kili had woken her with a cry and his brother was gone. 

"I just wish...I don't know. I don't know what I want," Kili laughed at his own dizziness. "Only, I think about him a lot."

"He was a kindly boy. Good with a blade already," Thorin sighed. "But you must not spend the rest of your life mourning a person you never met."

"I know it," Kili rubbed soot from his fingertips.

Yet, even as the day turned dark and work was done, Kili didn't go to a tavern or find a likely bedmate for the evening. Instead, he walked out of town altogether. It was early summer and everywhere, lavender bloomed up in the fields, crushing fragrantly under his boots. The mountains loomed, giants laid down to rest in the dark. Perched high in one was the dragon's lair or so most people suspected.

"Just you and me," he told the dot of flame on the peak.

Dragon spotting was a sport for children up late with their noses to the window panes. Kili had been one of them once, leaning halfway out the sill the night he finally saw a shadow the right shape. He had never quite forgotten the wonder of that sight, the elegant curve of a wing against the moon. When he told his Mother, she had gone white and left the room. 

“She thinks that dragon is a bad omen,” he had given Kili an extra cup of warm milk. “It came to our house not long after your brother disappeared. Nearly took off the roof trying to land. Left a pile of coin too though it took not a thing. There had been another dragon before, a great red one. Different sort of beast altogether, never much bothered with any of us. But the red one went off and in came that gold one and your mother’s always mucked it up with...well. You understand.” 

Kili had understood. He wondered sometimes if he’d gotten all mucked up himself. That somehow, staring out into the night sky replaced a conversation that might’ve been whispered in the dark. That the protective flames that left wolves and orcs charred in the fields replaced a hand on his own shoulder, a second sword at the ready. 

He was far too old now to spend his nights staring dazedly out the window, so instead he came out here to indulge himself. It childish and stupid, but there was no one to tease him about it. His agemates had long ago left Dale for places with more opportunities for dwarfs and his parents had stopped tracking his comings and goings when he started bringing home coin from the forge. 

“You’re grown now,” his mother had decided and poured him a squat glass of whiskey to match his father’s. “Your life is your own.” 

Which was all well and good, but Kili had no idea what to do with it. Loneliness had become his constant companion. Ori had been writing for Ered Luin lately, cajoling him to join their artist collective there. Kili tried to imagine living among weavers, writers and painters. Ori was a good sort. They’d have fun and at least Kili wouldn’t fall asleep in a room with two beds, one of them ever empty. 

But Dale still held him fast. He watched the stars emerge, reluctant to return to the town. 

“If I don’t see you tonight,” he decided, lying down on the flat boulder he’d found years ago, “then I’m off. That’s it. Gone.” 

It was a whim, a stupid fancy, but Kili had done more on less. It was in the dragon’s hands...claws now. Let random chance dictate his future, it was no more than had written his past. 

Midnight came and went, weighing down Kili’s eyes, but he didn’t make his way home. Not yet. He’d give the great beast a few extra hours this time around. He dozed in and out, dreamed of forging two swords, one as strong as the other that sparked when he touched them together. 

“You’ll catch your death,” someone grumbled. 

“What?” Kili sat up, his back screaming bloody murder. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to fall asleep in the open air?” the voice was deep and graveled. 

“Didn’t mean to,” Kili yawned and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Suppose I lost track of time.” 

“You’re too reckless. Too careless with yourself.” 

The ground shook slightly. Fear shot through Kili’s veins and he sat straight up like a shot. Only a few feet away from him, a head the size of his whole body regarded him. The dragon shimmered even in the dark, starlight catching on its golden scales. People said it was a very small dragon, probably very young, but even a small dragon was many times larger than a full grown dwarf. 

“You-” Kili started then stopped, staring. 

“Me,” the dragon agreed with a huff that sounded nearly amused. “I’ve seen you out here before, but usually you have the good sense to keep up your guard.” 

“You’ve seen me?” Kili shook his head, brushing away the last of sleep. “But...I almost never see you. Three times this past year and not at all the year before.” 

“I’m surprised you saw me at all,” the dragon’s head tilted, putting Kili in mind of a curious cat. 

“I was looking very hard,” Kili reached out, fingers stopping just short of the long pointed muzzle. “Sorry. Only...I’ve always wondered if your hide was as hard as they say.” 

“Reckless,” the dragon huffed again, but the movement had the effect of butting his nose right into Kili’s hand. 

The flesh was startlingly hot, but not enough to scald. Rough hewn and tough, it reminded Kili of the forge and a little of a woolen blanket dried too stiff. The thick smell of molten lead soothed through Kili’s chest, unwinding something bound up since he’d gotten Ori’s letter. 

“I made a bet with myself about tonight,” he couldn’t bring himself to draw away, fascinated by the golden gleam. “That if I saw you then I would stay in Dale.” 

“Where else would you go?” The dragon’s spoke softly, but it still shook through Kili’s arm and set his spine shivering. 

“There’s a place for me far from here. Somewhere I could makes a few friends. Have a few laughs. This town...it doesn’t have anything for me. My friend Ori moved there to live among artists and wants me to join him.” 

“But you’ve stayed,” the dragon sounded weirdly sad. As if it cared which Kili couldn’t piece together. “All this time. I thought you liked it here.” 

“You thought about me?” Kili’s fingers tripped over a dry patch, the outer layer of hide flaking away. “Why? How do you even tell me from the other ants below you?” 

“Never mind,” the dragon ducked away, but not before a bit of flaking skin came away in Kili’s hand. “Do as you will. You should be happy.” 

In one mighty push, the dragon took off and its wings blew lavender every which way. Kili picked the flowers out of his mouth as he watched him ascend the mountain. 

“Right,” he stared down at the tattered bit of gold in his hand. “That...that happened.” 

He walked slowly back home, turning the thin sheet over and over. The dragon knew him. The dragon cared if he stayed. Why? Pushing quietly into the house, he practically fell over his mother where she sat in the dark. There was a blanket pulled over her legs and a basket of unshucked nuts in her lap. 

“Mother?” 

“Oh! Where did you come from?” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “I thought you were out for the night.” 

“Decided to come home,” he took the basket from her. “Why aren’t you in bed?” 

“Oh, you know,” she waved a hand around, “lost in thought, I suppose. I always am on the day. I can't help but think about it. If I had just kept my eyes open...” 

“Come on,” he helped her to her feet and walked with her up the stairs. “It’s not your fault.” 

“You're a good son,” She kissed his cheek. 

He caught a glimpse of his father’s form under the blankets before she shut the door behind her. Kili climbed another set of stairs to his attic bedroom. Shedding his clothes, he got under the blankets. He looked over the golden skin once more before tucking it under his pillow. Sleep should have been elusive, but work at a forge made for an exhausting day without the excitement of meeting a dragon layered on top of it. 

The sun woke him too soon, stirring him with a blaze and making the room unbearably warm. He threw off his blankets and washed his face, running the night before over and over in his mind. It seemed very dreamlike now, all the delicate colors of the dark muted field and the weight of the dragon’s regard. He picked up his pillow reluctantly, fearing that he would find it barren. 

The skin was gone, but something did remain. A single blond curl of hair. Kili plucked it up and held the lock to the light. It was ordinary hair, a little coarse and very bright. He sniffed it and there again found the scent of molten lead. It was just long enough to hold a small braid and fit around his middle finger. Kili couldn’t say why he wanted it there, but it looked right. 

At breakfast his mother caught sight of it and smiled, 

“Has a woman caught your eye at last then?” 

“Something like that.” 

“The post brought another letter for you yesterday,” his father set a letter before him. “I think it’s that Ori fellow again.” 

“Well, if you’ve found someone you like here than surely you won’t be leaving?” His mother set a bowl of oatmeal before him. “You’ll stay.” 

“I’ve got to get to work,” he picked up the bowl. “Not sure I’ll be home for dinner.” 

If Thorin noticed Kili’s distraction, he didn’t mention it. They had become good at working together with Kili respecting Thorin’s silences and Thorin occasionally entertaining Kili’s wilder ideas. Metalwork would never be Kili’s passion, but he was able enough and his wild hairs sometimes produced finer things that made it bearable. 

But today...today it was excruciating. Today, Kili’s hammer pounded out a pot while his focus was all for the great mountain. There the dragon slept. It probably had a hoard, a mass of gold that it used for a bed. That would be where the coin came from that it spread around Dale during its late night visits. Kili had noted they had much the same taste actually. The dragon often took the ale that Kili favored along with sheep rather than pigs, thick carpets of bright colors instead of the humans more subdue tastes. 

“Lunch,” Thorin handed him a plate of thick bread and a slab of cheese. 

“Thanks,” Kili took it absently. 

“What’s that then?” Thorin tapped Kili’s hand. “You’re not making promises already are you?” 

“No, no promises,” he pasted on a grin and broke off a piece of cheese. “You know the old tales, don’t you?” 

“Not as well as Balin might, but yes, I know them,” Thorin raised his eyebrows. “You should know them too, as often as your poor mother tried to drill them into your head. Always rather be running about then chained inside.” 

“Careful. That nearly sounded like pride.” 

“It sounded like no such thing,” Thorin hid his smile with a bit of bread. “Anyway, what’s got you asking about them?” 

“Have you ever heard of a shape shifter? Or maybe...I don’t know, something like a curse?” 

“Shape shifters, yes. They’re all gone now though. Wiped out in the last great war. Curses, those are trickier. When there was still a great deal of magic in the land, they happened all the time. You still here of them now and again though,” Thorin tugged at the end of his beard, straightening an errant braid. “Usually they’re cast on those who’ve made some kind of moral error. Gone astray or been too proud.” 

Kili didn’t ask the next question or the hundreds of others waiting behind it. One was generally Thorin’s limit, his patience reserved for work. Kili held his tongue and watched the mountain. A plan, nebulous and yes, reckless, was already growing within him. As soon as Thorin made the slightest motion of being ready to close for the day, Kili banked the flames and shut the door. 

“I thought that the ring wasn’t a promise?” Thorin crossed his arms watching Kili jackrabbit around the room. 

“Not a promise. Sort of a challenge more like.” Kili felt giddy, light headed with the decision. 

“Right, well. Tomorrow is a seventhday, I suppose. You’re entitled to enjoy it.” 

“Yes,” Kili grabbed up his satchel. “I am.” 

It didn’t take him long to pack. He often went on short hunting trips with his father and the equipment was much the same. 

“Where are you going?” His mother asked, wide eyed as he flew down the stairs. 

“Adventure!” He wrapped her up and danced her around the room. 

“You foolish lad, put me down,” she laughed slapping at him. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“No idea! Isn’t that marvelous? Just for today, things aren’t just the same,” he kissed her cheek, picked up his pack and raced out the door. 

“Don’t do anything foolish!” She called after him, but he was already too far away to call back. 

The fields spread wide before him, but for once he didn’t veer from the path. He went for the mountain, pacing himself though he dearly wanted to run the entire way. It was dark by the time he reached the roots of the mountain, but he had a lantern and a fat moon to guide him. He picked his way up vast old steps, the crumbling remains of his ancestors’ kingdom. The dwarfs had been mighty once, but that was long ago and far away. 

The air was different as he climbed, cleaner somehow and cooler. His pack, unfortunately, also grew heavier and his ascent slowed. The last few hundred feet he took at nearly a crawl and the moon was tumbling in the sky. The small spot of fire he had so often watched from the ground resolved into a massive torch on the edge of a great cliff. On the other end, two enormous doors stood open and the faint smell of molten lead leaked out. 

Kili approached the doors cautiously and without further plans to carry him, decided on knocking. 

“Hello!” He called out, listening to the echo. “Thought I’d come by for a visit.” 

There was a vast silence and then heavy thud, one after the other. The dragon’s head emerged from the darkness and in the full light of the fire it looked even mightier. Now, Kili could see its eyes, great blue discs with slit of ink spilled into the center. 

“I don’t have visitors,” the dragon said slowly as if Kili were really very dim.

“Well you have one now,” Kili untied the top of his pack. “See, I’ve even brought a house...cave...whatever warming gift.” 

“A gift?” 

“Yes. Unless there’s some sort of rule against it. Only I noticed that you liked bright colored things,” he unfolded the tapestry. He’d bought it years ago, but never hung it. It was a wide thing with a lion’s profile on a red background. 

“Ah,” a leathery wing brushed by Kili, stirring his hair. A single claw delicately touched one corner of the piece. “I know this weaver’s work.” 

“She’s from Dale originally,” the wing was arched over Kili’s head and he could see all the delicate muscle and the web of red veins. “I thought you might like it.” 

The dragon didn’t reply. It looked over the tapestry a long time. Eventually, it turned its head to regard Kili with one eye. Kili smiled and waited. 

“You should go,” the dragon said with evident regret. “It’s better if you go.” 

“But I came all this way!” His heart sank like a stone. “Please.” 

“I’m the beast under the mountain, Kili. Not your friend.” 

“You know my name,” Kili’s eyes widened. “How do you know my name?”

“Please leave,” the dragon retreated into the darkness, but it took the tapestry with it. “Please go.” 

“All right,” Kili made a production of stuffing his pack and walking off. “If that’s what you want.” 

On a hunch, Kili hunkered down behind a boulder. He knew how to wait for a fire to lick up and steel to heat, he could wait for the sun to rise. It didn’t even take long enough for his legs to cramp. He didn’t hear anything, so he waited until the sun was good and up before leaving his pack in front of the huge doors and slipping inside. The daylight penetrated fairly far inside and it proved that not only was Kili’s dragon a hoarder, but he had a sense of aesthetics as well. There was no heaping piles, but neatly organized shelves and tapestries hung along the walls. 

There were chests piled against the back wall, faint glitters of gold betraying their contents. More strangely still, there was an utterly normal dwarf sized kitchen. A delicate glass vase was even centered on the table, a nodding tangle of flowers in the middle. There was no way that a dragon’s claws, no matter how gentle, could have done that. 

“I was right,” Kili whispered. He was elated and frankly, shocked. He’d never been right about something like this. 

“Right about what?” 

It was the same voice, but far less powerful. Kili turned and he couldn’t have quit smiling if someone had tried to slap it off his face. There was a dwarf dressed in loose sleep clothes. His hair was unbraided, loose gold around his face and brushing his shoulders. The mustache and beard were full, putting him a few years older than Kili. 

“You’re my dragon!” Kili blurted and then clapped a hand over his mouth. 

“I told you go home,” the dragon watched him intently. 

“I had to know,” he lowered his hand and hoped he didn’t look as red as he felt. “I accidentally got a piece of your skin and it turned into hair and you knew who I was and I thought that maybe you’d been paying attention. And I was paying attention to you.” 

“Uh huh,” the dragon took a step forward and then another. His hair glittered in the sun just like his scales had. “You grew up.” 

“Um, yes?” 

“You grew up well,” and the dragon stood right in front of him. Just as Kili had the night before, the dragon held out his hand and brushed it over Kili’s face. “I saw you, but only in the dark and from so far away.” 

“I don’t understand,” he leaned into the touch. 

“There must always be a dragon in Erebor. Do you know that?” 

“No,” the dragon’s skin was still too warm even in this form. “Why?” 

“To keep away the deadly lizards of the North. And the orcs and all the creepy crawly things that come out of the darkness if there’s no one to defend this hall. I’m the fifth dragon. Chosen by the one that came before me,” the dragon had the barest hint of a smile. “I couldn’t refuse. But I would get homesick. Anyone would and I was just a child then. So I flew by, I would watch for you.” 

Kili took in a shattered breath and put his hand over the one so tender on his cheek. 

“Fili,” he exhaled. 

“You could call me that,” the dragon turned their hands so they were clasped together, hanging loose between them. “But it would probably not be wise. I’m meant to stay here and you...you should go. To your artist’s colony. You’ve been so unhappy.” 

“You said you just flew by, how would you know?” 

“I paid attention. There’s very little for me to pay attention to when the dark things aren’t around,” Fili shrugged, his thumb rubbing small circles over the top of Kili’s hand. 

“...you’re my brother,” Kili stared at him, trying to absorb it. “All this time and you really were looking out for me. You were always here. Mother...why couldn’t you tell her?” 

“Her son is dead. Your brother is dead,” Fili released his hold and took a step backward. “I’m not a dwarf. I don’t have a life. I’m fire and death.” 

“You collect art and file your treasure according to size,” Kili glanced around. “You apparently pick flowers. That’s not very intimidating or death like.” 

“Dragons are allowed to like nice things,” Fili grabbed up a kettle, filling it and opened a pot bellied stove. He inhaled deeply then blew a neat stream of flame onto the logs. It caught and went up. Then he set the kettle now. “I couldn’t go home to her. I tried once. I almost took the roof off the house.” 

“You could’ve come during the day.” 

“To what end? She couldn’t raise me any longer. Dragons are born with a thousand years of knowledge. She couldn’t be my mother in the ways that mattered to her.” 

“But she could’ve stopped blaming herself!” He hadn’t meant to yell, but it roared out of him. “You don’t know what she thought, how heavy it weighed on her.” 

“I told her!” Fili whipped around and his eyes glowed for a paralyzing instant. “I did go home. Twice. I showed her, but she couldn’t...there’s magic at work too great for me to fight. Imagine, being a scared child with all this information stuffed into your head. You try to go home and your mother doesn’t see, you doesn’t recognize you. How many times would you go back?”

“How many times did you?” 

“Eighty-five. Every year, I try,” Fili’s eyes dimmed back to nothing. “Every year, she just...falls asleep after I leave and doesn’t remember.” 

“You left her in the living room,” Kili realized. “That’s why she was sitting out.” 

“Magic is a scoundrel.”

“Wait. Does that mean that I’ll forget too?” 

“Probably. Most likely. It’s never come up before. I was always careful not to see you when I was like this,” Fili watched the kettle. 

“Why not?”

“Hope, stupidity. I don’t know. Probably you’ll pass out when the sun goes down and I’ll have to fly you back to Dale.” 

“Oh,” Kili swallowed hard. “I have some cheese in my pack. If you want something to go with your breakfast.” 

“Cheese,” Fili finally looked to him. “All of that and you’re thinking about cheese?” 

“I’m thinking that if I only have a day then I’d rather enjoy it with you.” 

Fili didn’t seem to have a reply to that, so Kili fetched his pack. They set out a meal together, using fine plates that must’ve cost a fortune. 

“So where does all the money come from?” Kili asked, admiring the work. “You don’t steal it as far as I can tell.” 

“It depends on how you look at stealing. On the one hand, no I didn’t take it. On the other, it doesn’t exactly belong to me. And...on some third other hand, it is sort of mine. Or would’ve been if Erebor hadn’t fallen.” 

Kili looked blankly at him. 

“It’s the dwarf’s gold. The kingdom of Erebor’s great hoard. Dragons live off it as sort of payment for keeping away the dark,” Fili explained. “And if I hadn’t become a dragon, then I would have been the heir of Durin which technically makes it mine.” 

“You mean all this sort of belongs to Uncle Thorin still?” 

“I don’t think even he would see it that way after all these generations, but yes. It does.” 

“Huh,” Kili ate and sipped the strong tea that Fili had brewed. “What’s it like? Being a dragon?” 

“What’s it like being a dwarf?” 

“Well that’s different. You were a dwarf.” 

“I was six when I was chosen. I barely remember it,” he wrapped both hands around his mug. “You can’t explain what its like anymore than I could explain being a dragon.” 

“Flying then. Tell me about that.” 

“It’s like walking without the ground underfoot,” Fili sipped his tea. 

“Really? It’s that dull?” Kili frowned. 

“No, actually. It’s amazing,” Fili smiled and it was like Thorin's hidden grins. “It’s wind and speed and excitement. I’ve mastered this double loop move and it took me years, but it makes the whole world spin around.” 

“And you breath fire?” 

“More like I am fire. Dragons, we’re sort of like elementals. Mostly fire and some hard skin to hold it all in,” Fili looked at him over the rim of his mug. “You work at the forge, you know about flames.” 

“That’s different. I make things, but it’s not...it’s just work.” 

“You woodwork.” 

“You’ve seen that?” Kili frowned. 

“You make arrows when you’re out at night. Sometimes it seems like you don’t even know you’re doing it. And other things, but I can’t make out the shapes.” 

“Nothing. Bowls. Hair clasps. Little things.” 

“Show me.” 

“I don’t have anything on me.” 

“I don’t believe you. Show me.” 

Kili hesitated, then dug into his pack and set the carving on the table. It wasn’t very large, but it was tellingly detailed. From tip of tail to the end of the snout, Kili had set in each scale and ridge as best as he could make out from those late night glimpses. Fili picked it up, studying it intently, turning it over and over. 

“This is why you should go,” Fili set the carving down. “You’ve got art in your fingertips.” 

“It’s just a fidget. Something to keep my hands busy,” Kili didn’t pick it back up. 

“It’s beauty,” Fili gestured around him lazily. “Trust me on this. Dragons have a sense for these things.” 

“I’ll agree with you if you take me flying.” 

“Excuse me?” Fili set down his cup. 

“I’ll admit that I’m capable of making nice things if you take me flying.” 

“Kili, by the time I can do that, you won’t remember.” 

“You'll have to get me back to Dale somehow," Kili grinned. "And I promise to be impressed even if I don't remember."

“Fine. Fine!” Fili laughed. “You’re ridiculous.” 

“You wouldn’t be the first person to say so. Show me your pretty things then, that's as good a way as any to get to know each other.” 

Fili was apparently over the moon at the chance to show someone his collection. He kept reaching out, tugging at Kili’s sleeve to draw him along or touching his shoulder to bring attention to a particular piece. They went deep into the cavern, passing a dwarf size bedroom and a larger room filled with downy pillows and scattering of coins that might sleep a dragon. 

“This one I got from Gondor,” Fili handed Kili a heavy blade. “One of their guards gave it to me.” 

“You travel a lot.” 

“The dark things don’t just threaten Dale. I go where I’m needed,” Fili ran a finger down the hilt of the blade. “I have a few friends and allies scattered about. I go visiting sometimes too.” 

“That’s good,” Kili turned the blade over, felt it’s balance. It was too long for him, but he admired the craftsmanship. “I wondered what it must be like to live all alone up here.” 

“Much the same as living mostly alone down there,” Fili sheathed the sword. 

“Awful then.” 

“Awful,” Fili agreed. 

They walked on until Fili led them to a still clear pool. It reminded Kili of his tramping the night before and how the dirt must cling to him. 

“Can I swim in it?” 

“I often do,” Fili stuck his hand in the water. “It’s heated by an underground spring.” 

“A hot bath all year round? That’s luxury,” Kili pulled off his shirt and started in on his trousers. 

“You’re going to bath right now?” 

“Why? Should I wait for it to cool?” He teased and shimmied out of his small clothes, before splashing into the water. It was very warm and he ducked under to soak his hair. When he emerged, Fili was watching him from the edge. “Aren’t you coming in?” 

“I’m not the one covered in filth,” but Fili shucked off his clothes. Kili watched under his eyelashes and spied a long streak of golden scales trailing up Fili’s spine, before he tipped backwards into the water. It sent ripples that got up Kili’s nose. 

“Do you swim in here when you’re all dragony too?” 

“I’m ‘all dragony’ right now,” Fili popped up a few feet away from him, shaking his head doglike to send droplets everywhere. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“I know, but I don’t think you understand. I’m always a dragon. It’s not a costume I take on and off,” Fili dipped under and returned with a thick handful of black sand. “Good for washing with.” 

Kili ducked under to grab his own handful. There were gold coins embedded in the sand. 

“You do swim here when you’ve got wings,” Kili determined. “You wallow around in here, admit it.” 

“Nothing wrong about that,” Fili rubbed the sand over his skin and Kili copied him. It wasn’t too abrasive, but it did slough off the dirt. 

“Not wrong, it’s just sort of funny. Imagining you rolling around in the water. Playful. I didn’t think you’d be playful.” 

“I’m not,” Fili wiped the sand over his face and into his hair. Then he ducked under and emerged with a powerful splash that soaked Kili all over again. 

“Liar!” Kili laughed and splashed back. 

He hadn’t played like this in years, but they made a great game of chase. Fili could hold his breath underwater indefinitely which would have given him an unfair advantage except that Kili proved a faster swimmer. They were both out of breath and laughing by the time Kili had to cry uncle and push himself out of the pool. 

“Do you have a comb I can use around here or should I go back to my pack?” 

“I’ve got a comb.” Fili didn’t get dressed as he padded towards the shelves that trailed seemingly every wall. It gave Kili time to admire the broad set of his shoulders and the powerful lines of muscle in his back and thighs. It was probably wrong to even look, he realized belatedly, but it was too late. Fili had turned back, two combs in hand and caught him at it. 

“Sorry,” he offered lamely. “We don’t look much alike.” 

“No, I suppose we don’t,” Fili handed him one of the combs before sitting down beside him, close enough that Kili could feel the heat pouring off him. “You look just like Mother.” 

“And you favor Father,” Kili could see it, in the nose and lips. He set in on his tangles. 

“A bit,” Fili shrugged and turned his attention to his own knots. 

When Kili had gotten out the worst of it, he did two quick braids to keep it out of his eyes and clipped it back. Fili set aside his own comb, seemingly content to let his curls dried where they fell. 

“You should have braids.” 

“Why?” Fili frowned. 

“Because you’re meant to at your age. Your hair is getting coarse and it’ll be a mess if you just leave it,” Kili picked up Fili’s comb. “Come on, I’ll do it for you and you’ll see.” 

Fili submitted meekly, turning so Kili had full access to his head. It was easy to plait braids, far easier than it was on his own head, but Kili stopped himself from going too far. Just enough to be respectable, he decided, even though it pained him to draw his hands away from the bright curls. They had wrapped so nicely around his fingers and seemed to draw him in. 

“You should do my mustache,” Fili determined. 

“What? Why?” Kili blinked at him. 

“Because it’ll please you.” 

“It won’t- I- how did you know?” 

“You’re trying to make me look more dwarfish. It won’t last, but I don’t mind pretending.” 

“No,” Kili dropped his hands to his side. “You don’t have to pretend for me. You should be yourself.” 

“Please,” Fili caught one of Kili’s hands and drew it to his chin. “You should.” 

Kili couldn’t say why his fingers shook, but at least they obeyed him. When he was done, he found himself frozen. He was staring into Fili’s eyes, memorizing the shape of them, the slant of his nose and the sweet humor waiting on his lips. 

“The trouble with dragons is that we’re really very greedy,” Fili said quietly. “We see a treasure and we become fixated. We must have it. Damn whatever tries to get in our way.” 

“Dwarfs have been accused of that before,” Kili replied because it seemed to be expected of him to say something. 

“Nothing like a dragon. You will stop because of social convention. Because something in you tells you that you can’t. That its wrong to steal,” Fili shifted, incrementally closer now. “For a dragon to have a treasure and not pursue it, it takes every shred of energy. They must fight it all the time. They will find a way to watch over it, even if they cannot own it.” 

“I’m not a gem,” Kili’s voice wobbled. 

“You’re better than any rock,” Fili reached out, held Kili’s face in both his hands. “You should have gone when I told you to go.” 

“You’re my brother.” 

“We're not even the same species,” a tiny trail of smoke blew between Fili’s lips. “You should have gone, Kili. For both our sakes.” 

“I didn’t know. Mahal forgive me.” 

It was Kili who closed that last fragment of space. He had kissed many people, many times, but none of them had lips that flared this warm against his or hands that clung so possessively as they did. There wasn’t time for thought after that or recriminations. The kiss turned into another and another until Fili proved his strength by picking Kili cleanly up. Kili scrambled to get his legs around Fili’s waist, trying to string a sentence together that didn't consist of embarrassing grunts and groans. 

He gave up when his back hit the mattress and Fili climbed over him. They rutted against each other, Fili’s cock a brand against Kili’s thigh. It took all of Kili’s wits to hang on and when he came at last he could have sworn the world flickered out for a frightening span of seconds. Fili took himself in hand and finished in three long tugs, striping Kili’s belly. The molten lead smell intensified. Kili’s curiosity would not allow him to ignore that, so he dragged his fingers through the moisture and held them before his eyes. 

“Is this gold?” He put it to his lips and found that it did have a metallic taste. 

“Maybe?” Fili laughed as Kili made a face. “Eating a handful of metals is good for my digestion. Might’ve gotten mixed up along the way. I’m not laid out the same way as you are under the skin.” 

“Different species,” Kili repeated and wiped his hand on the sheet. “Wait, do dragons have sex?” 

“I’ll let you work that one out,” Fili rolled his eyes at him. 

“Well, yes. Obviously, but don’t you lay eggs or something?” 

“We abduct a small child and give them our knowledge and then turn to stone,” Fili shrugged. “I like sex better.” 

“So would I,” Kili rolled onto his side. The long stretch of pale flesh beside him looked dwarfish enough, but when Kili pressed his hand to Fili’s chest there wasn’t even a hint of a heartbeat. 

“Here,” Fili moved his hand down to his belly and there, the pulse of life met. It wasn’t a beat exactly, but a thrum. “That’s my fire.” 

“I don’t actually understand any of this,” Kili determined, before pillowing his head on Fili’s stomach. It was soft under his head and the thrum was oddly comforting. 

“I know,” Fili stroked a hand over Kili’s hair. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’m not.” 

They spent the rest of the day in bed. Kili wouldn’t have minded a chance to get out and explore the caverns further, but Fili seemed determined to keep him there. Even when Kili grew hungry, Fili brought food to him. Even fed him, bite by bite, with a kiss between each one. 

“You’ll forget this,” Fili breathed into his mouth. “I don’t know how I’ll bear it. You’ll forget and you’ll move away and I’ll leave you alone.” 

“You can’t leave me alone,” Kili swallowed. “You said it yourself.” 

“I’ll try,” Fili gritted out and then kissed him again. 

They had sex again, this time with oil and the slow pressure of Fili’s fingers spreading Kili wide. Kili began on his belly, but Fili couldn’t abide that, rolling him over onto his back. 

“It’s mine to see,” Fili panted, his hands dug hard into the mattress over Kili’s shoulders. “I want every second of it.” 

“Then take it,” Kili drew him closer and then he had no words, only cry after cry as Fili pounded into him and wrung them both dry. 

The sunlight faded as they caught their breaths. 

“I would give the entire hoard to keep it from setting,” Fili mumbled into Kili’s shoulder. 

“We had today,” Kili held him close, feeling as greedy as a dragon just then. “We had today at least.” 

“Would you tell a man dying of thirst that a single drop of water would do?” 

“Now you’re just being dramatic,” Kili flicked the end of his nose. “I still have a few minutes. Don’t go mourning just yet.” 

“Ow,” Fili rubbed his nose, with an irritated frown. “I need to get out of this room. I’ll break it apart if I stay.” 

“Can I watch?” 

“I doubt it’s anything you’ll want to see.” 

“Well, if you’re right I won’t remember, so it won’t matter. Right?” 

“I don’t like your logic.” 

They wound up on the cliffside where Kili had begun this strange day. Fili turned his face to setting sun. 

“You must sun yourself out here. Giant lizard soaking up the warmth.” 

“Sometimes,” Fili gave him a lopsided smile. “Unlike some people, it’s not scandalous for me to be bare under the sun.“

“It was...how did you know?” Kili flushed all over again. 

“You fell asleep once on the roof. That was how I found out you weren’t a child any longer.” 

“Oh Mahal,” Kili laughed. “If I had known what I was doing...well. I probably would’ve done it anyway. Maybe I’m a bit of a dragon too.” 

“It doesn’t run in the blood,” Fili corrected, but the idea seemed to please him. 

“Who was the dragon before you? Did he come from Dale?” 

“His name was Thrain,” Fili looked back toward the sun. 

“So it is in the blood.” 

“Shut up. He just picked me because he liked the idea of keeping the gold in the family. One has nothing to do with the other.” 

“No. I’ve got dragon blood,” Kili decided. 

“I don’t even bleed,” Fili protested, but then the last of the sun was gone. Kili was glad it had come so swiftly. He couldn’t have borne a long goodbye. 

The change wasn’t violent or bloody or any of the nightmare visions Kili had conjured. It was more like an unfolding as if Fili were just stretching after too long in a small space. It took longer than Kili had expected as well, long minutes for limbs to straighten and the great head to open its maw in a wide yawn. Then Fili gave a real stretch, showing off his tremendous wingspan and the deadly whip of his tail. 

Everything went tight and hard. Kili stumbled and fell to his knees, gasping for air that had fled his lungs. His eyes slammed shut against the assault. One of his hands throbbed in pain and he clasped it to his chest with a shout. Nausea roiled in his belly and he retched onto the warm stone. 

“Kili?” A deep voice rumbled. “Kili, talk to me.” 

“It hurts,” he gasped. “Why does it hurt?” 

“What hurts? It shouldn’t...you should have fallen asleep.” 

“My hand,” Kili panted. 

“Show me.”

With great effort, Kili opened his eyes. The dragon’s head was just a few inches from his own. The dragon. 

“Fili,” he gasped. “Why does it ache?” 

“What’s that?” Fili’s great snout came closer. “What’s on your finger?” 

Painfully, Kili uncramped his hand. Wrapped around his middle finger was a molten hot band of gold. The smell of charred flesh turned his stomach again. 

“It was that lock of your hair,” he stared at it. “I mean, it was your skin and then it was your hair.” 

“And you kept it on your finger?” Fili grumbled, “Of all the reckless, stupid things-” 

“But I remembered,” Kili realized and even through the pain, he smiled. “I remembered today.” 

“And if you don’t go inside and treat that, it’ll get infected and it will all be for naught,” Fili nudged his chest. “Come on.” 

It wasn’t until Kili had fumbled through Fili’s jars and found something that claimed to be healing salve, put it on and bandaged up his finger that Fili let out a soft, pained sound. 

“Are you hurt too?” Kili asked. 

“No, I can’t...you remember.” 

“Yes. Probably the ring thing. I’ve got a bit of you with me now. All the time. So I can’t forget.” 

“I’ve never heard of that happening before.” 

“Like you said. Stupid. Reckless. Only an idiot would do it.” 

“My idiot,” Fili set his head down beside Kili. The dry patch as still there, flaking on the top of his nose. Kili rubbed at it, listening to Fili’s hums of approval. His hand throbbed, but he found it easy to ignore. 

“You’ll have to take me flying now,” he determined. 

“Yes, anything you want,” Fili’s eyes closed. “Anything.” 

Flying was frightening and nauseating. Every second they were in the sky, Kili was sure that he was going to die. 

It was the most fun he’d ever had. He shouted as they skimmed over the great lake, the water thrown up like gems against the moonlit sky. Fili huffed out smoke, something like a laugh as Kili shrieked and whooped. 

When Fili plucked up a sheep, Kili knocked on the top of his head, 

“Keep a piece of that for me.” 

The cavern accepted them on their return and Fili waited impatiently for Kili to butcher off a bit of mutton, then ate the sheep in two snapped bites. When Kili settled in one of the kitchen chairs, Fili wrapped his tail around the legs with happy sigh. It was the best meal Kili could ever remember. 

 

_Six years later_

“Five gold pieces?” The elf turned the carving over and over. “That seems a little steep for such a little thing.” 

“He usually charges ten,” Ori crossed his arms over his chest. “He must like the look of you.” 

“Thank you, Ori. I don’t actually need your help,” Kili rolled his eyes. “Its five. Always been five. Five yesterday, five today, five tomorrow.” 

“Five is fine,” the elf actually laughed, showing off fine white teeth. “It’s a good likeness of one of the nature spirits.”

“He’s got a thing for nature,” Ori giggled and Kili elbowed him hard. 

“Here,” she set down the coins and tucked the carving into her bag. “I admire your work. I didn’t know that dwarfs did such fine woodwork. Are you a fletcher?” 

“Yes, of course,” he drew out a stack of arrows. 

“What are these tipped with?” she studied the golden sheen with a frown. 

“Special recipe. It’ll hold it’s edge no matter what you send it through.” 

She balanced each of them on the tips of her fingers with a slight frown. 

“Shoot one if you like,” Kili gestured to the target he’d painted behind their stall, already pock marked. “You won’t find better.” 

With a sharp nod, she drew her bow and before Kili could move out of the way, she sent an arrow singing over his shoulder. 

“They fly straight,” she considered them, “how much for the lot?” 

“Normally twenty, but you just took a year off my life, so let’s say twenty-two.” 

They haggled, but in the end, she went away with a lighter purse and fifty arrows. Kili crowed in delight when she was out of earshot. 

“You’d think you actually needed the money,” Ori shoved at him. 

“Well, you need it. And I like earning my way sometimes,” Kili put an arm around Ori’s shoulders. “Let’s close up and I’ll buy you a pint.” 

They drank deep, but Kili kept watch and stopped when his head began to swim. It wouldn’t do to be drunk tonight. They walked back, admiring the sunset and talking about next year’s market season. 

“You’ll bring more carvings than this year,” Ori ordered. “Bigger variety too. Maybe something beside ‘nature spirits’.” 

“I’ll bring what I’ll bring,” Kili shrugged. “But we’ll see. Arrows by the score I can guarantee.” 

“I’ll miss you,” Ori sighed, sagging against Kili as he unlocked the door. 

“I’ll miss you too, half-pint,” Kili poured him into his bed and drew the blankets over him. 

“You’re leaving tonight, already?” Britana, one of the painters, asked from from the doorway. 

“And I’ll be back before you know it.” 

The entire house descended on him before he could escape and he was passed from weaver to storyteller, given trinkets and hugs and advice. He finally made it up to his room, flustered and pleased. The collective had welcomed him warmly and over the years, changeover meant he’d become something like a senior member. They liked his reckless ideas and encouraged his art to flourish. The coin he earned kept the house afloat and more besides if it was needed. 

He liked his room too. It was the attic space just like his bedroom in Dale, but here there was only one bed though he rarely got a chance to share it. His pack lay waiting on it and he added little to it before climbing out the window. The last rays of the sun trickled away and the faded ache in his finger throbbed. The ring had never again turned to a lock of hair, but it always pained him a little at dusk and dawn. 

Today the pain made him smile. The wind stirred and the great black shape of his lover filled the sky. They didn’t speak as Fili alighted on the roof. Kili only clamored on his back and pressed his face to golden scale. The flight took all night and Kili dozed after the first few hours, certain of the rigging he’d invented. 

“We’re home now,” Fili rumbled and Kili woke just in time to dismount before the sun tucked the edges of the dragon back into his smaller form. 

“So we are,” Kili drew Fili closed and kissed him. Later they would go into town and visit Kili’s parents and Thorin. They recognized Fili now, but not as a lost son. Just as the mercurial dwarf that Kili had taken as a lover, who never could stay for supper. Those meetings always left Fili quiet and thoughtful, but less melancholy as the years went on. 

But that would be later. Now there was this. 

“I killed you a buck,” Fili drew him close, “and I made you a mattress stuffed with fine down. I painted the walls of our room the color of the sky and inset diamonds in the ceiling.” 

“Very well done,” Kili grinned, kissed the edges of of Fili’s smile. “You feathered our nest wonderfully.” 

“It’s no good without you in it,” Fili buried his face into Kili’s neck and inhaled. “My treasure.” 

“My dragon,” and then they spoke no more.


End file.
